


bright, brighter

by ewagan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9517643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewagan/pseuds/ewagan
Summary: Lance is just a boy too small in a universe that's far bigger than him, in love with another boy who blazes like a dying star. His hands are not meant for holding stars, but his hands curve over Keith’s in something like reassurance, something that saysI’m here for you, but you can go too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have feelings about Lance and the lack of in season 2, so have something I've been sitting on for months I finally finished because _feels_.

Lance has never had much luck in terms of relationships. There was that time when he met this adorable girl with the curliest black hair and sweetest smile he'd seen, but he had been five and she was on vacation. Their short lived summer affair had his mother still cooing and teasing him about it, how he'd gone and asked Mr. Benson who ran the ice cream parlour if he he could get free ice cream if he worked there just because she said she liked ice cream.

There was also this boy in his first year of high school, the sort of affair that happened behind closed doors and behind stairways. They never did much more than kiss, and it wasn't much of a relationship if Lance was honest about it. The entire thing left a sour taste in his mouth and he swore off dating guys, flirting with any and every vaguely attractive girl he came across. He dated a few girls through the rest of high school, brought one home to the delight of his mother, but high school ended and so did they.

Then there was the Garrison, being too far from home and strangers in clubs. There was the launch of the Kerberos mission and watching his hero walk away on one of the biggest missions yet. With it came the desire to do better, to push forward because he wanted to pilot fighter planes too. He wanted to be good, he wanted to be one of the best. He wanted to make his mother proud, he wanted to see her happy.

Some dreams crashed with the disappearance of Shiro and the rest of the Kerberos mission. Some dreams came to realization, others crumbled into ash. It made Lance wonder why every step forward came with a half step back and a bitter taste in his mouth.

He never counted on Shiro returning, or Keith or the lions. Those were factors beyond his imagination. He never imagined Zarkon or Allura or Voltron (or Coran's terrible space goo, for that matter), but he found himself in the middle of it, fighting aliens and defending the universe. He laughed with Hunk, rubbed Keith the wrong way and flirted badly with Allura, spent hours sitting in silence with Pidge while she worked, offering seemingly useless suggestions that sometimes Pidge took and morphed into something tangible, something real.

For all the good, there was a trade-off. There always was. Homesickness was more painful than he thought it could be, and sometimes enough to be physically nauseating. He missed the sea salt smell of the wind, the crash of the ocean, cold warm water of the surface under his hands, waves taller than he was as he surfed. He missed the creak of the boardwalk, the way it gave under his feet. He missed his siblings, the sound of screaming laughter in the air, the loud cursing as someone stepped on a Lego.

And then there was Keith. Keith, who was like a supernova, a dying star. He shone brilliantly but he was a star collapsing in on itself, burning brightly, brightly. Lance didn’t know if he liked him or hated him, but he knew he was envious of how effortless Keith made everything seem. It was easy to channel all of that into a semblance of rivalry, learning which buttons to push and just what to say to garner a reaction.

But sometimes-

There are moments like these, the air hangs heavy between them, looks that weigh too much and Lance cannot look away. They’re gone, faster than Lance can blink.

 

His mother always said he trusted too easily, that he gave too willingly. She always said it with a smile of fond exasperation, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead. _One day, someone will hurt you because you are too trusting_. He laughed her off and kissed her cheek, _I’ll be fine, mama. You worry too much._

Perhaps it is not surprising that he winds up hurt so often, too many sessions in the healing pod and the way nausea and dizziness become familiar sensations. He laughs it off, but he can feel something like weariness settle into his bones, a kind of exhaustion that the healing pods cannot take away.

He doesn’t have much to give the team, but they do not need more problems. There is already too many of those, with Allura’s secrets and Shiro’s nightmares, Pidge’s missing family and the way all of them are fraying at the edges.

It was terrifying to realize that heroes were human and fallible, that Shiro was also breakable. They lose Shiro once, twice; to his own nightmares and to Zarkon. They bring him back, and Shiro is fine, but Lance can see the cracks, how tightly Shiro holds himself together as if he was afraid of breaking apart.

So he learns things. He learns to aim his rifle when his knees are shaking with exhaustion, breath caught in his throat and he can’t breathe. He learns to live with the constant ache of homesickness, the way it creeps up and seizes him at the most surprising moments. He wonders what they told his mother, if she had wept because he was gone, if his sister had clenched her hands into fists so tight her knuckles were white and her nails dug into her palm, if his father’s head had bowed with the weight of not knowing.

In all of this, there is Keith, who kisses like he’s dying, like he’s drowning. He kisses like he fights, fierce and unrelenting. Lance kisses him back, his fingers digging in too deep and leaving bruises, clinging to Keith like Keith is the only thing grounding him.

It’s not hard to let it escalate into something else, quiet moments with his forehead pressed against Keith’s and quiet desperation, a whispered _I can’t_ and a _you can,_ we _can,_ the relief and exhaustion that makes itself known when Keith is safe.

But Keith. Keith is a star, a supernova. He is imploding in upon himself and Lance cannot stop it, only stand closer and reach for things he cannot have. There are nights he wakes up alone, when Keith is gone and he doesn’t return. There is recklessness and danger, the hollowness in Lance’s chest when he cannot see Keith, when Keith doesn’t respond as they fight off another battalion of Galran cruisers.

It is bitterness on his tongue and a lump in his throat he cannot swallow, a fear so visceral it leaves him almost breathless with its intensity. He tries to tell this to Keith in a way he only knows how; in touches softer than the brush of wind in early spring, in kisses over his bruised knuckles and the rough skin of his palm. It is in whispered words when the lights are out and there is only the dim, ambient glow of low lights, where he can barely see Keith’s face and his words are softer than Keith’s breathing.

 _I love you._ He says it like a gift, a present.

 _I’m in love with you._ Something like a promise and too much intent in his words and he presses his face against the back of Keith’s neck, where his hair is overlong and softer than it should be.

There is no answer, but it is also not really a question. Perhaps it was a way to let go, the way a child loses a balloon to the sky and watches it disappear. It is fear, it is disappointment but it is also relief; and Lance thinks that Keith is brighter than he is, too bright. Stars shone brightest when they were dying and maybe this was why Keith was so bright, a blaze of light and heat and fury barreling past him in his lion, ready to mete out the justice he believed in.

He doesn’t tell Keith about the knot in his stomach when he watches Keith fly the dangerous missions alone, the ones where there are far too many lasers and things that could go wrong, how his knuckles turn white from clenching too hard, the deep grooves in his palms. Those are his secrets, for nights when he wakes up gasping and Keith is sleeping beside him, for the late nights and frustrated mornings when he doesn’t answer Keith’s questions right. He folds them into his bones, where he keeps the tiredness and the homesickness, lets it become a part of him, a secret he holds between him and Blue.

Some people are meant to be brilliant and beautiful, to burn hotter and brighter than anyone, and Keith is one of those people.

The thing is, they burn out faster too.

 

He thinks, that it’ll be okay one day, that his bones would not feel so weary and something like grief will not threaten to swallow him whole. The worst part is seeing Keith every day, ragged edges of something tearing in his chest. It is right, but not quite anymore, and he thinks that he’s ready to let go, and let Keith be all that he wants to be. Keith is something special, and Lance likes to think he is not selfish enough to keep Keith to himself.

It goes beyond the Blade of Mamora and the secrets of his Galran heritage to something simply, inherently Keith. It is the way Keith blazes like a sun, too much for any one person to hold.

And Lance remembers that the sun too, is a star.

He could not have predicted this, the trajectory of his life and how wildly it had diverged, the way the stars hang in the sky and the way the planets orbit, but he also never predicted Keith, the way he could laugh like a child, the hard edges that belied the softness beneath, the way his hand could cradle Lance’s face like he was something precious, something to hold dear. The way he smiled at Lance as if Lance was something, like he was everything.

Lance is just a boy too small in a universe that’s far bigger than him, in love with another boy who blazes like a dying star. His hands are not meant for holding stars, but his hands curve over Keith’s in something like reassurance, something that says _I’m here for you, but you can go too_.

 

_“Hey Keith?”_

_“Yeah?” He turns around to face Lance, half his face illuminated by the light filtering in through the doorway._

_“You know I love you, right?” Lance asks, voice soft and quiet._

_“Why do you make it sound like a goodbye?” Keith frowns, brow furrowing._

_“What are you talking about? Can’t a guy tell his boyfriend he loves him?” Lance masks his insecurity behind indignance, because it’s easier to fight than it is to be honest._

_But Keith smiles at him instead, the soft smile that makes Lance’s breath catch, makes his heart feel as if it’s too big for his ribcage._

_“I love you too, you know.” His hand catches Lance’s, fingers lacing together. “I’m not going anywhere, dumbass.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. All kudos and comments are very much appreciated. 
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ewagan).


End file.
